


One Moment In Arecibo

by PostApocolypticAlien



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Early MSR, F/M, Season 2, i uhh wrote smut lol, post little green men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26088475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PostApocolypticAlien/pseuds/PostApocolypticAlien
Summary: They don’t speak about it. Not tomorrow, not the next week, not the next month. But it lingers with them, in their arguments and their touches. When he touches her back she is instantly reminded of that night, of that one moment in Arecibo.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	One Moment In Arecibo

**Author's Note:**

> I don't write smut often but this has been an idea I've had for a while- it's not original at all but it's something.

They find a small motel just outside Arecibo. The manager knows no English, Scully only a smattering of Spanish but it’s enough to get them a room.

They’re both exhausted; the adrenaline off being chased wore off hours ago now they’re left with achy and tired bones. With plans to get the earliest flight possible tomorrow, they know sleep is what they need.

Mulder still worries her. Scully took the wheel once it became transparent that the Berets had lost them, Mulder had looked to be on his way out anyway and uncharacteristically crashed as soon as he got into the passenger’s seat. Scully drove until she found a motel sign.

“You get the bed, Mulder,” Scully says upon entering the room.

He would usually protest, offer to sleep on the floor but he goes over to it without a word of complaint, falling against the pillows and shutting his eyes.

He’d drank the entire bottle of water but he still looked dehydrated. Scully had no idea how long he’d gone without it. She pours him a glass and sets it on the bedside table.

“Drink,” she gently commands and as he does so she disappears back outside with the go-the-go firstaid kit.

Tending to Mulder became part of the job description. Always needing to look at various bumps and scratches- perhaps she should officially become his doctor. She has the thought to ask him about that later. For now, she places a cold, damp cloth against his forehead.

“I really saw them, Scully,” he croaks, his eyes opening slightly to look at her.

“I’m sure you did, Mulder.” She runs her hands through his hair feeling the bump from when he must have fell. He winces slightly as her hands brush over it.

“Sore?” she asks.

“I’ll be fine,” he answers and Scully rolls her eyes. “We should get out of here as soon as we can.”

Scully nods. “We will. But first I want you to sleep.”

“What will you do?”

She smiles, combing her fingers through his hair once more.

“I’ll keep watch.”

She lifts herself off the bed then, picking up the glass and heading into the bathroom. When she exits with another full glass of water, Mulder is sleeping, snoring softly. As quietly as she can she places the glass on the table again and moves to the desk chair to begin her vigil.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He’s startled awake around 1am.

Only the desk lamp is on and Scully is above him, removing the cloth off his forehead. The excessive sweating is over, his chest bare, and looking a lot better.

“Feeling better?” Scully asks.

Mulder nods, reaching for the water on the side and taking a gulp. Scully watches as he downs the whole thing, playing with the cloth in her hands.

“Thank you,” he says wants he finishes and the words come as a surprise to Scully. It’s a very rare thing for Mulder to be so openingly grateful. She knew he appreciated her work and all she had to offer, more so now they’ve been separated, but it brings a soft smile across her lips to hear him say it.

“I’d probably be dead like Jorge if you hadn’t found me.”

He’s right. “Well, somebody has to keep you alive,” she says with a grin.

Mulder grins back then swings his legs off the bed. He stands, only to wobble a bit and sit back down again, a dazed look on his face.

“Are you okay?” Scully asks, a hand reaching out to steady him even as he sits.

“Yeah,” Mulder answers blinking a few times. “I just stood up too soon.”

But she fingers are still brushing through his hair, feeling for the bump. Her eyes do their own searching too, for any cuts or bruises she might have missed the first time. She finds one on the side of his neck, closer to the back.

“Mulder, you’re cut,” she says.

His hands instinctively come up to his neck, feeling over the cut.

He shakes his head. “Just a scratch. Doesn’t hurt, honest.”

She takes his word for it, her own eyes confirming that it is just a scratch and shouldn’t cause too much harm.

“Any other dizziness? Nauseous?”

He shakes his head again. “Not anymore.”

She smiles, moving her hand from the back of his back to the front, brushing away a stray strand curling against his forehead. She loses herself in the motion, zoning out and not coming back until she hears her name.

“Scully?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m good. Really.”

She realises then how close they are. In her concern, she had threw herself over him, straddling him almost, becoming aware of how close their noses were to touching.

Her eyes move from were they are locked on his nose down to his mouth and maybe it’s the temperature of the room that has her brain all fuzzy and is clouding her judgement but his plump, pink lips have suddenly become the most enticing thing she’s ever saw.

And there’s no thought process, no last moments of lingering doubt in her mind as she drives right in, connecting her own lips with his.

There are no objections from him, either. He matches her pace quickly and efficiently, opening up when her tongue prods at his lower lip.

Her hands stay where are they, above his shoulders, but his begin to explore, stroking over her clothed hips before slipping and dipping inside her shirt.

His hands spur her on, feeling his fingertips slide up her stomach. She presses harder into the kiss, angling slightly so their noses don’t hit the other.

She’s unsure which of them moans, she thinks it’s her, as his hands come up to cup her breasts, finger circling her nipples through the fabric, clenching as she feels them harden.

And the lower half of her body begins to sought out his lower half. Everything below her is hard. A solid body of taunt muscles.

His hands have moved away from her breasts, something she finds herself missing, and they begin their descent back down, over her hips and round her back, resting on that space he’s always touching, the space that has become his. He pushes her body down, her centre coming into contact with his and upon touching, Mulder immediately starts to grind his hardness into her.

Their kiss broken a while ago, they’re still close but their lips aren’t touching anymore. Scully gives herself to the building pleasure of it all, feeling herself go up and up but it’s not enough, she needs more.

Her brow frowning, a frustrated plea exits her mouth.

“Mulder… _please_.”

Knowing what she needs, Mulder flips them, his hands coming to rest either side of her waist and he grinds harder into her, pushing her deeper and deeper into the mattress.

But Scully knows what she needs. She tries to grasp his button and fly which becomes a difficult thing when he’s still thrusting against her.

Finally, she manages to grab it and Mulder halts his movement when he realises what she’s doing. The first bit of questioning enters the space as he looks at her and with his eyes asking her if she’s sure if this is what wants.

And sure enough it is. The peak has been passed, her clit throbs with need, she needs.

He helps her free himself- shorts and boxers going, but this is a two-way dance and her clothes must go as well. Mulder takes it upon himself to sort that out, he unbuttons her own shorts and pulls them down, taking her underwear with it.

And if there was a time to be self-conscious, now wasn’t it. With both lower halves bared, Scully pulls him back to her, her lips claiming his once more. The kiss is a lot messier than before with no concern for noses this time as they bump against another. His tongue enters her mouth and Scully nips at it gently with her teeth before soothing it with her own tongue. This time Mulder moans, hand fumbling between their bodies to line himself up.

Scully lets out a gasp, breaking the kiss and her head falling back against the pillow as he fills her, the slight sliver of pain as her walls stretch to accommodate him.

“Sorry,” he whispers an apologetic look across her face.

Scully smiles, shaking her head, urging him to move.

When he does, the pain makes way for pleasure. It’s slow and gentle, painfully so. She wants him harder and deeper, her fingers wrapping around the poles on the bedframe, giving herself leverage to speed up the thrusting.

Thankfully, Mulder is a quick learner and he quickly realises what she wants him to do. His own hands wrap around the poles, around her hands, holding her there, restraining her. At the thought, she feels an embarrassing amount of wetness gather, slickening them up even more as Mulder’s thrusts come harder and harder.

She’s moving up the bed, her head millimetres away from the frame and there’s just enough coherent thought left in Mulder to pick up the pillow and place it in between, least she bash her head.

Her legs wrap around his waist, ankles interlocking to keep them there. She climbs higher and higher, up and up until there’s nothing but that peak in sight, nothing but the feeling of Mulder about to rip her in half.

“Scully, I’m gonna…” Her brain in mush and before she can say or do anything his fingers are on her clit, circling, unrelenting ,without pattern but God she doesn’t care because it’s enough to peak that peak and fall right over the edge.

“No…No…” she says as she crests over, her body stiffening, fingers tightening around the pole.

“Yes…yes…” Mulder says, following quickly after her.

They relax. Mulder removes his hands and manages to fall to the side of her, refusing to squish her. Scully brings her own hands down, stiff and sore from being trapped for so long.

Her muscles aching, her body singing, she doesn’t care for the come that leaks out of her. Her eyes close.

“Let me clean you,” Mulder says. The bed rustles with his leaving but he returns just as quickly, she bearly feels the cloth touch her.

When he’s done, he lays next to her, a hand combing her hair out of the way before they wrap around her, tugging her closer to him.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

They don’t speak about it. Not tomorrow, not the next week, not the next month. But it lingers with them, in their arguments and their touches. When he touches her back she is instantly reminded of that night, of that one moment in Arecibo.


End file.
